


"Oh, I Thought He'd Never Shut Up."

by Shine_Like_Neon



Category: Fable 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Forgiveness, Out of Character, Reaver has a heart, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shine_Like_Neon/pseuds/Shine_Like_Neon
Summary: Once united in a small cove in Bloodstone, the four Heroes must travel through Albion to return to Bower Lake: to reach Hero Hill and perform the ritual that will stop The Spire and Lucien's insane wish. It's an epic quest, and one that's going to go about as well as expected...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how I start, everything I write with Reaver in has ended up being a little maudlin, so I'm going to something a little more cheerful.
> 
> As always, there's slight canon divergence: as in, instead of using Will to transport the four Heroes to Hero Hill: they and Theresa have to get there by foot...
> 
> ...And, yes, that's going to go about as well as expected.

"She was right!" I heard a familiar voice exclaim, distracting me from the footsteps I could still hear in the cave behind me - _those not belonging to Reaver: the new pain in my backside, or Fenrir: my loyal companion_ \- "They're here! It's good to see you again, Sparrow: hope we didn't miss too much."

Garth gave me a small, wry smile: "It sounded like a massacre."

"Oh, you know." I smiled back, even if my own expression was a little tired: "A hundred Spire Guards, against me and the Pirate King back there. It was a walk in the park."

Hammer shrugged her shoulders: "I hope so. I don't know how much more killing I can stand. Balverines and Bandits behind ever rock and tree: and every one I kill, two more take it's place."

We shared a sympathetic look, before I sent her a sympathetic look: "Such is the life of a Hero. Sometimes we have to do things we hate, or that are strenuous, to save those who can't do it themselves."

 

Garth nodded sagely, while Hammer made an irritated but resigned face. She knew I was right...but hopefully, not for too much longer: at least in her case. I knew Hammer tired of running around, cutting down villains who - _as she had said_ - only ever multiplied. It was an endless battle, and I know she wasn't enjoying the fighting as much as she thought she would.  But, thankfully, there was only one task left.

Stopping Lucian.

...it was a monuments task, that was undeniable, but it was a single task.

 

"Eh...all quite fascinating. I'm... _I'm touched_. I'm also leaving. And, oh, yes...three...two...one..."

 

There was a loud explosion, and rocks rumbled and crashed down to seal the tunnel that we had just escaped from. Trapping the soldiers inside the caves  we had used to escape...oh, the irony.

 

"And any other lurking nasties in those tunnels will now have a bit of a headache. Which means I just saved us all again - aren't I nice?"

Despite myself, I had to snicker at Reaver's smugly taunting smile: "The very kindest, Pirate."

Fenrir barked in agreement.

"Thank you, sweet Sparrow. Now, in a few moments, I will be sailing to safety on my ship, so the way I see it: we're even. In exchange for a favour, little bird, I'll happily bring you along for the ride...although I'm afraid the invitation is not extended to your friends."

 

I shook my head indulgently. I wouldn't take Reaver up on his offer _(of course, I would never abandon my quest, not when I was so close to completing it)_ , but I couldn't help but be amused by Reaver's blasé attitude. Everyone around me was always so serious...it was nice to experience some irreverence in my life.

Reaver may joke about being the nicest...but actually, I would miss him when he was gone.

 

"No, you can't, you - " Hammer snapped, only to be silenced by Reaver calmly raising a hand:

"My dear...whatever in Skorm's name you're supposed to be dressed as, _I am Reaver_. I can, and will, do whatever I wish."

  

But all of a sudden, there was another explosion. And this one was not made by Reaver: but by an all-to-familiar object floating ominously in the sky. A Shard. One that, as Reaver then pointed out, required us to go with 'Plan B'.

Plan B, essentially,  was battle mode. I drew my long sword from where it rested across my back, and focused on the Shard. It was bigger than any of the ones I'd fought before...but although it looked sturdier than the others, I assumed fighting it would still be the same. Just tougher. But with four of us, instead of just me, hopefully we could end this before any serious damage was done. I was almost clean out of healing potions.

Spire Guards hit the ground, and Hammer and I rushed forwards. We were close-contact fighters: she with her hammer, and I with my sword. Reaver took a step back, preferring to pick them off with his DragonStomper, while Garth used his usual daggers. Snarling, I took another Spire Guard down with a sword swing, and then another with a burst of lightning. Hammer laughed wildly, Garth made an approving noise, while Reaver shot the Spire Guard coming up behind me: prompting me to return the favour. He grinned, and then the moment was over and we returned to the fight.

 

"Garth! We need to take out the Shard!" I screamed over the appearance of the fourth wave of Spire Guards: "Otherwise this is never going to stop! Hammer, Reaver: keep fighting! Reaver, if you get a spare moment, shoot at the Shard!"

"We're on it!" Hammer shouted back, taking an extra vicious swing at a Spire Guard.

Even Reaver, agreed: "For now, little birdy."

 

I ignored the mocking name, running with Garth up to the small set of ruins atop the hill at the edge of the cove. Both of us started to work on taking it down. I held onto the lightning: holding and holding it between my palms as it got stronger, before releasing it into the Shard's weak spot.

The form trembled, looked a little scorched, but didn't fall to pieces. So we'd just had to keep going. I sent fireball after fireball at it, while Garth sent stronger blade attacks, all make the Shard shudder and shake...but not fall. Again, I went for the lighting: letting the power grow as much was as possible before releasing it. Simultaneously, Garth released the strongest attack of blades that he could. Finally, the Shard lurched. We followed it up: balls of fire and lightning and barrages of blades, until finally - _finally_ \- the Shard stopped. Shook. And exploded.

We'd done it.

 

Hammer laughed wildly, the tone more than a little hysterical: "Now that's teamwork!"

"Yes, such fun." I could practically hear Reaver rolling his eyes at Hammer's joy: "And with that, I'm off. Byesie...Sparrow, my offer still stands."

I smiled, shaking my head. He wouldn't get far - in fact, already I could feel the fain humming in the air that meant a powerful Will User was exercising their power. It was no shock to me when Theresa appeared in a halo of bright, multi-hued like so blinding it was almost white: "Welcome, Reaver."

"Delighted to be here...whoever you are. Such a shame - for you - that this meeting must be so brief, but as I was saying: I really must go."

Theresa paid his arrogance no mind, cutting straight to the heart of the matter: "Listen to me. If you do not help us, Lucien will control this world and every person in it. And then who will you sacrifice to the Shadow Court?"

"As if a person not wanting, or choosing, to go to their death would stop me leading them to it. Or ever has." Reaver responded aloofly: "As far as I'm concerned, Lucien's welcome to people. They're are a bit overrated, don't you find?"

"You're people, you cold-hearted bastard." Hammer interrupted: " _All of us_ are. Lucien wants _total_ control, and he almost has the means to gain it."

Reaver looked around, finally focusing on me: "Including you?"

I shrugged nonchalantly: "I presume. He alone cannot bend my will, but with the weapon he's building...maybe. I certainly wouldn't survive long in his future, anyway."

"Ah, very well. Alright, yes, I will help you." Reaver finally gave in, rolling his eyes as he did so: "And after that, there's a good chance I'll kill you. But let's cross that bridge when we come to it, hmm? So, what now?"

"Now, we have to leave this cove. It is a long journey back to the Circle of Heroes."

Like always, Hammer had the first question of Theresa's plan: "Just one thing. If the tunnel is blocked, and the ship is at the bottom of the sea...how are we going to get out of this cove?"

    

                       

 

* * *

 

               

        

               

"Well, that's something I never want to do again," Hammer whined once we were back on land, out of sight of the docks of Bloodstone, quickly turning her ire on Reaver: "Haven't you ever head of not burning your bridges?"

"Haven't you ever heard of keeping your mouth shut? Monk, be silent." Reaver sounded tired, and I wondered how many bullets or sword blows he'd absorbed during the battle on the beach. I'd tried to watch out for him, but...

I stepped between the bristling Heroes of Strength and Skill, a stern glare in place: "Hammer, let it go. Reaver made the best of a bad situation: and he ensured we weren't attacked from behind. Reaver, don't be rude; Hammer's help was, as it always is, invaluable. Drink this," I said, handing him a strong healing potion: "and the pair of you - shut up."

  

Theresa and Garth watched over the confrontation in silence as I handled Hammer and Reaver: Theresa sending me an approving nod when both Heroes acquiesced and moved apart. Thank Avo; I didn't think I could deal with another fight right now. Especially when I knew all too well that, with Reaver, a verbal fight could very quickly turn into a physical one.

No-one moved for a few moments: and I realised that none of them knew where to get from here. Theresa always knew where things were going on, and Garth had all his academic intelligence, but neither of them knew how to react in the moment. Neither did Hammer, and Reaver simply didn't care enough to lead the group.

 _Dear Avo, what have I got myself into now?_ Forcing down my irritation at their collective haplessness, I took charge.

We needed to rest before we went through the marshes. The Tavern by the docks would suffice for that: as well as buying the drink Reaver would inevitably demand. Not that I would be far behind him if the quest continued in this manner. We also needed potions, healing and preferably anything to increase our Strength, Skill, or Will. I put Garth in charge of that. Hammer I sent to find supplies for trek back to Bower Lake: especially since Theresa pointed out it would all be done on foot. Reaver was sent to buy suitable Marsh-wear for Theresa, Hammer, and Garth. Hammer for one needed a coat, and Theresa needed better shoes. Aside from Reaver, I took everyone's weapons to get them sharpened and repaired. Going through Wraithsmarsh unprepared was suicide. Even Theresa would need some kind of weapon...I wasn't sure what, but when I asked her she told me something lightweight that she could use in close-quarters. We the rest of us occupied, it left Theresa to head to the inn.

I told her to book as many beds as possible. Preferably the whole floor; the less people around, the less people that could report back to Lucien on our location. She nodded and took off, leaving us to do the same.

 

"Sparrow?" Hammer asked softly: "Can I talk to you?"

We hung back, petting Fenrir together while letting the men go ahead, before I turned back to Hammer: "What can I do for you, Hammer?"

"How...how did you manage in Wraithsmarsh? It wasn't too bad, was it? I mean you survived, and you're not insane, so that's good..."

I smiled, pulling the other woman into a hug: "I'm fine, Hammer. It wasn't pleasant - and I'm not looking forward to trying it again tomorrow - but...it wasn't as bad as the stories say. I only met two Banshees. It was more Hollow Men: and we both you how well you can deal with them."

Hammer laughed: "We do. C'mon, Sparrow - let's go catch up with Garth and that Pirate King who seems to like you so much."

 

I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away to head into the Bloodstone. It didn't take me too long to get the weapons sorted: Hammer's hammer was reinforced, mine and Reaver's swords were sharpened, I bought more bullets and crossbow bolts, as well as a Master Katana for Theresa. Garth didn't want anything, so with my business completed I headed back to the inn. I hoped that I managed to beat Reaver back there; he clearly didn't want to get on with Hammer, and I doubted he'd even try to get along with Theresa or Garth, either. I was perfectly sure neither would act against him - we needed his help, after all - but neither were strong or fast enough to stop Hammer charging him, or Reaver shooting her.

Somehow, this had become my latest task. Separating two fully grown adults, Heroes no less, who acted like angry children.

Thankfully, I did beat Reaver back. The only two here were Theresa, who had thankfully managed to secure us ever bed in the inn, and Hammer. For a brief instance, I felt a wave of nostalgia: these two waiting for me, to give me my latest quest...but then Reaver strode in behind me, smirking. Clearly, he was ready for his next metaphorical battle.

 

_Dear Skorm, please help me._


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Garth and Reaver had disappeared down to the bar downstairs, while I, Hammer, and Theresa prepared ourselves to leave. For me, it was largely lacing up my black leather thigh-high boots, tightening the lacings and belt of my hot pants, and shifting my red corset until it was supporting me properly. I slid into my black and scarlet highwayman coat, perching the matching hat on my head. But it was taking Theresa and Hammer longer.

Unlike me, they didn't sleep in their clothes. It was a habit from being out in Albion with no place to actually sleep safely: only small hidey-holes to catch a quick nap. I was thankful I'd not had to sleep with my weapons, boots, and coat on. But while Theresa had slept with her dress on: she was now shoving her feet into her new boots and considering where to attach the sheath for her Katana. Hammer, though, was still without her armour, boots, and hammer. Wordlessly, I ushered them into being ready: before finally heading down to meet the men.

Reaver was already drinking - _of course_ _he was_ \- while Garth was calmly contemplating...something or other. I pushed the drink out of Reaver's hand, raised Garth from his internal reverie, and pulled them, and Hammer and Theresa, out of the tavern. The docks were still quiet, thankfully, so we managed to head up to slope towards the tombs without much trouble.

 

"Wraithsmarsh is no easy feat." I told them as we got closer and closer to the aforementioned challenge: "Hollowmen erupt from the ground at almost every turn - which, by the way Garth: are best combatted by fireball spells, or Hammer: hitting them as hard as you can: trying to shatter their bones. You two and Theresa stay together at all costs. Reaver and I shall do the same: going ahead. Hopefully we'll manage to take out the worst of it all."

"Growing fonder of me, are we Little Bird?" Reaver smirked.

I rolled my eyes at him, but didn't rise to the bait: "Banshees and Trolls are best combatted with skill. That's you and me. Besides, we know Wraithsmarsh better than those two."

 

Reaver actually had the wind taken out of his sails. Perhaps that was way to deal with him: just respond with fact, rather than show any irritation - clearly that just prompted him to keep going. Because of course it did; that suited Reaver's antagonistic nature down to a 'T'. Probably another good reason to separate him from Hammer and her reactionary personality.

With that in mind, I dragged him ahead. In two groups, I was hoping that we wouldn't draw too much attention to ourselves. In preparing to go through the Marshes, I'd heard that groups never fared well - while individuals sometimes stood a chance. We couldn't quite go one by one (Reaver could be trusted not to just disappear, and I was too worried about the other three to let them go alone) but two and three were still better than five. Barely. But it was demonstrably better...at least until we were halfway through the marshes.

All at once, a dozen Hollow Men exploded from the ground. I hadn't even heard the Wisps through the oppressive fog...meaning that I should've expected the Banshee that materialised just behind the skeletons.

 

_**"...Leave this place...you are not wanted here...not wanted anywhere..."** _

"She talking to you or me?" I asked Reaver: seeing him aim at the Banshee while I started setting fire to the Hollow Men's brittle bones and rags.

He shrugged: "Who can tell?"

_**"...Killer of innocents...you do not belong here; you belong with her...the one you allowed to die for your own selfish gain...Murderer..."** _

  

Was she talking about Rose? Or was there someone in Reaver's past?

Either way, I was quickly tiring of her words. And with the Hollow Men gone: I focused instead on the Banshee's shadowy children, giving Reaver a clear shot at the bitch. I knew what she was saying wasn't true: she was merely playing off of fears that either Reaver or I harboured. I'd already had it happen to me once...and the event still haunted me. The sooner she was dead, the less there would be to plague my nightmares.

 

_"What would Rose say if she could see you now? Do you think she would be proud? Do you think she would recognize the creature you've become? Did you know Rose didn't die right away from that shot? No, she watched you fall through that window, heard as your body thudded against the ground and cried bitter tears before a final shot from Lucien ended her life!"_

 

_**"Could you do nothing to save your her? Were you too weak to stop her death?"** _

 

I shook the Banshee's voice - both past and present - from my head: but launched myself at her shadowy figure. It seemed to draw back in shock...because a swing from my sword decapitated the hooded body: and it faded into nothing.

Trembling faintly,  _(the words spoken by the monster this time had been worse than before, so much worse...)_ I paused over where the Banshee had hovered: trying to compose myself. This was the first horror of Wraithsmarsh - and already I felt too tired to go on. She had been right; I was weak. Nobody wanted me, why would they? _I was weak_. I couldn't even protect my own sister... _weak, weak, weak!_

 

All of a sudden, there was a solid hand on my shoulder, a hand offering me a bottle of...something: pulling my out of my downward spiral: "Here, drink. It's only some brandy...but it helps." Reaver's golden-brown eyes were infinitely softer than I had ever seen them - but all too soon, they hardened again, clouded with derision - even if his words and tone didn't reflect the emotion: "I'm...sorry you had to head what the Banshee had to say to me."

"To you? Those words were for me." I denied: "I should have tried harder to save my sister."

 

Reaver didn't refute my claim...nor did he explain who his 'her' was, but it was clear that he didn't agree with me. But it clearly wasn't a subject he was willing to broach, so I didn't argue further. We stayed in silence: through our next several groups of Hollow Men, through defeating the next Banshee (although I noticed Reaver managed to dispatch this one a lot quicker than the last one), and even through me almost falling into the thick, boggy water. Reaver caught me, but didn't say anything: merely acknowledged my grateful smile with a single nod. It was odd to see such a loud man be so silent for so long - it was somewhat unnerving.

It made me grateful for the Troll exploding out of the ground. The savage grin that overtook Reaver's features, transforming handsome into wild - a Hero, was a sight to behold: and his laughing _'Shall we?'_ was all the invitation I needed to start shooting with him. Fenrir barked happily as Reaver and I worked in tandem, perfect shot after perfect shot, until the Troll fell.

 

"Well done, little bird. Who knew you were such a good shot?" Reaver commended, before the small smirk at the corner of his lips grew wider and teasing: "Almost half as good as me."

I just laughed: "I think you mean almost twice as good. After all...I don't just shoot bullets."

"No, the balls of lightning." Reaver mused, slightly behind Fen and I as we continued our trek: "Why not knives, like the Mage?"

"Garth has focused on learning about how to throw blades. They're incredibly strong...but they're not the only manifestation of Will. Fireballs, a kind of force that can push opponents back, the ability to confuse and cause chaos, raise ghosts to fight for you, and rewinding time for a short period. I've learned them all. But the only one as strong as Garth's blades? The lighting. I don't know why: but I think it's something to do with an individuals personality."

Reaver hummed thoughtfully: "That would make sense. Will is a manifestation of a person's internal strength - logical to reflect what kind of internal personality would be. So, something about you screams 'Lightning' does it? I can see it."

I sent a doubting look at him over my shoulder: "Oh really?"

 

All I got in response was another teasing smirk, before again we lapsed into silence.

The further we walked, the more solid the ground became. The fog lifted, the trees became uncrooked and alive, and the air of despair started to thin. Wraithsmarsh was slowly but steadily turning into The Bandit's Coast. I quickened my step: all too willing to leave the quagmire of death and the demonic behind in favour of some flesh and blood villains. At least when you killed those they stayed dead. Banshees, Hollow Men, they'd be back with the next full moon, just like Shades.

Give me Bandits any day. Although, before we could get to them, we had to wait for the others to catch up. We'd search for a safe place to rest, allow them to do the same, and start moving again on the dawn.

  

_Providing the others arrived on time._

    

 

              

 

A map of Albion.

I know it's not the clearest image, but basically our Heroes are following the coast line: from Bloodstone, through Wraithsmarsh, and then the Bandit Coast. Just to clear things up.

     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what type of Will do you think Reaver would be best at - and why? I know what I'm going to select for him, but I wonder if anyone will guess what it is...


	3. Chapter 3

I was awoken by a conversation in low voices, shaking me from the light sleep I'd been in:

 

"...with them? Just let us slaughter them all and no-one would ever be any the wiser."

Reaver didn't hesitate to respond. Not a gunshot, but the sound of a blade meeting flesh: cutting: and a body hitting the ground: "The next person to suggest harming The Hero of Bowerstone  will meet an even nastier fate. Is that clear?"

 

Silence. One that clearly meant agreement.

 

Reaver obviously felt the same way, since he didn't wait long to continue: "Now, I may be a pirate, but that does not make us allies. If I see any of you, or your cohorts, around our party again, I will shoot you all on sight. And you know what that means."

  

Death.

Certain, instant or at least very painful death: clearly something that the Bandits knew well, since it only took them a few seconds for them to flee, and completely disappear. I heard Reaver shuffle slightly, likely repositioning himself to go back to sleep, before I sat up.

 

"You're feeling charitable."

Slightly surprised by my wakefulness, Reaver had bolted upright again: only to gape silently before recovering himself: "Aren't I always?"

"No."

"So cruel, little fledgling." he purred in response, then (of course) doing a complete heel turn and becoming almost solemn: "I wouldn't let any harm come to our party while they slept. Especially someone who _doesn't_ bore me to tears, such as yourself. You're a rare breed, you know."

I couldn't help but smirk - I wasn't convinced Reaver was a good person, of course not; I probably never would be, but that didn't mean I didn't find him amusing. And my expression only seemed to make him more smug, a small: self-indulgent quirk forming at the corner of his lips, even though my next words weren't exactly a joke - despite how they were phrased: "We'll, we wouldn't want you getting bored, now would we? You might end up doing something drastic."

"Oh, don't worry about that - I promise you, dearie, that as soon as I get bored, you'll be the first to know. You might even enjoy yourself, if you're up for it."

 

More than used to him flirting by now, I merely rolled my eyes and lay back down: tilting my highwayman's hat over my face. The words meant nothing - as handsome as Reaver was, and as sincere as he could seem: I knew first-hand what lay beneath that veneer of debonair sophistication, and it didn't match the perfect surface. It could never be anything other than harmless flirting between us...especially when he talked to Hammer in almost exactly the same way, if only to annoy her. All in all, she had already decided that she didn't like the Pirate King, or what she saw as his attempts to 'worm his way into' my good graces.

I knew better: better than to let him charm me, and also better than to think Reaver would bother. He didn't care about me, or my opinions; Reaver was here only because it coincided with one of his main goals - staying _alive_.  Nothing - _not even a person he proclaimed to like_ \- would ever come before his own comfort or wellbeing.

That was something I could never forget.

 

          

  

* * *

  

          

   

The next few days and nights became an almost familiar routine.

Fight through Bandits, Hobbs, and Balverines, until we were camping on Bightwood Road, so close to Bower Lake. I had enjoyed the quest, if I was honest; despite everyone's reservations (including my own) he was a good man to fight beside. Not only was he incredibly skilled: he didn't mind violence like Hammer, spout 'wisdom' like Garth, or try and use the fight as some kind of lesson like Theresa was prone to do. No, Reaver just shot and slashed his way through his enemies: cheering on my use of Will, and often taking care of anyone or anything that tried to sneak up behind me, just as I did for him.

Honestly, I had come to the conclusion I was going to quite miss him when we went our separate ways. An odd thought, but true. The idea that I would miss Reaver...nobody would ever think that was normal. Not that that mattered; I wasn't normal, never really had been. Even as the strangely tall street-kid in Bowerstone, chasing after her older sister, I had stood out.

A little faster, a little stronger, having a better aim, and stronger moral compass. I had thought it normal, since Rose was exactly the same...but now I knew I was unusual, and as I'd gotten older I'd proven that that was true even by a Hero's standards. Theresa told me that she could no longer see my future clearly - that I had defied Fate so many times, it had given up trying to guide me. The only other people Theresa couldn't see? Herself, and Reaver - two of the oldest beings in Albion. It had taken them both at decades, if not centuries, to throw off the yoke of destiny. It had taken me a single decade - give or take. There was no denying I was different.

It was so easy to lose myself in my thoughts, moving so far away that I hadn't noticed that Reaver himself had come to sit next to me in front of the fire. I was up keeping watch...and we weren't due to swap for another hour or so.

 

"You looked far away." he murmured: "I wanted to know where you went."

"Bowerstone." I responded softly: "Bowerstone many years ago."

He paused: "The sister you mentioned in Wraithsmarsh? The one you thought you could've saved?"

I hesitated at first, unsure if I wanted to share my past - and my deepest weakness - with Reaver of all people, but eventually nodded; it wasn't like he couldn't find out of that's what he wanted: "I...yes. The very same."

"You most likely couldn't of, you know." he told me: "Just as I couldn't have saved the woman I lost. Banshees twist the guilt you already carry, but that doesn't make their words true."

"I could have stopped her. If I didn't her enable my sister's wish, didn't help her buy that music box...Lucien wouldn't've shot her."

"And if I hadn't gone to The Shadow Court and its Judges, my village wouldn't have burned. My wife wouldn't have died screaming for me to help her." Reaver replied grimly, his jaw tight with emotion: "Unfortunately, even actions we think are going to help us have their unfortunate consequences. Your Hero powers were awakened, and I became immortal...at a cost."

"A cost I didn't want to pay - one I would _never_ have paid."

He shrugged, his face uncharacteristically blank: "Life isn't fair. You don't know what's at the bottom of the cliff until you jump."

 

Of course, Reaver was right about that. I didn't want him to be...but he was. Without thinking, I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. All I wanted was my sister back: my parents: a life where I wasn't a Hero on a quest to avenge the destruction of all I'd known. But that was impossible - like Reaver had said, life wasn't fair. And so I'd have to settle with him for comfort. Thankfully, he didn't question it.

A strong arm rested around my shoulder, Reaver pulling me closer to his side. Neither of us spoke, neither of us having anything else to say - or secrets to share. I was honoured Reaver would share a fragment of his past with me: even if I could never know if he felt the same way. I would never insult him by bringing it up again, or asking him about it.

Instead, we just started into the crackling flames, awaiting tomorrow. This time, I knew _exactly_ what was over the edge of the cliff.

Revenge.

 

 _Victory_.

 

         

 

* * *

      

 

 

Hours later: I awoke back on the ground, with Garth on watch, and Reaver's arms around my waist. We were on our sides, the heat of his hands on my back, my head tucked under his chin, legs entwined. Part of me considered moving, especially when I caught the raised eyebrow Garth directed at me, but I decided against it; I was just so comfortable. Warm and safe: I felt protected from any threat.

It been so long since I felt so safe.

I didn't want to give it up.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning was the final push.

It took us an hour to reach the top of Hero Hill. We'd left when it was still dark: and the sun was coming up behind Theresa as we moved into our positions.

 

"Not that I'm against it...but why are we doing this? What exactly does Lucien want?"

 

I winced slightly, though I quickly blanked my expression. He didn't need to know that I was upset by his words...and everything else Since we'd woken up (together this time), Reaver had been avoiding looking me in the eye - Hell, he'd been avoiding me in general: refusing to walk by my side as he had been throughout the journey, and he'd been even more acerbic than usual. It...hurt. I wanted to lash out at him, but couldn't; in case humiliating me had been his plan all along.

Fortunately, Hammer had no such compunctions:

 

"Aside from godlike power?" she snapped at him, before pretending to be thoughtful - mocking Reaver: "Hmm, that's a tough one..."

Surprisingly, Reaver didn't rise to the bait: "That kind of power is a means, not an end. What does he want to do?"

"He wants his perfect world. His family back. As well as the obedience of every being in Albion, including Death, so that they may never be taken from him again." I said softly.

"But he - " Reaver cut himself off. It was not something that needed to be shared with the others - and I already knew what he was going to say. Lucien wanted his family back, even though in trying to achieve that, he had taken mine from me.

Garth - thankfully - spoke before Reaver could start again: "When I first knew him, it was simply about his family. By now...give a beggar a million gold, and he'll buy bread until he's full. But then he'll realise bread isn't the only thing for sale."

 

We were interrupted by Theresa, who had seemed to be waiting for something, but now deemed us ready to begin.

I stepped into the middle circle, while the others stepped into their respective places. Theresa explained that through me, the weapon we needed to defeat Lucien would be called forth. Blue light hallowed Hammer, will Garth glowed red, and Reaver radiated golden light. He was impatient: questioning what was supposed to happen...only to collapse in pain: before being floated in the air. Golden light shot towards me...before Garth met a similar fate, and the red light of Will snaked towards me. From behind, Hammer's blue aura hit me in the back: the three abilities tearing through me and fighting for...something. Tossing and roiling like a stormy sea, I was thrown up into the air, screaming and screaming, until suddenly I was alone.

My friends had collapsed to the floor: unconscious, Theresa was nowhere to be seen, and Fenrir was growling out over the lake. I whirled on the spot, searching for answers....but it wasn't until I saw an all-too-familiar shock of white hair that I realised what had happened. White lightning slammed into the ground, half a dozen Spire Guards appearing to protect their master, but I couldn't force myself to care.

 _He_ was here. 

 

_Lucien._

 

"Enough power to build a new world." he proclaimed: "And yet you try to save the old one."

"You're...you're Lucien!" Hammer yelled, suddenly awake and on her feet - ignoring the way her knees shook: "You killed my father! I'll die before I let you walk away still breathing..."

"As you wish." Lucien shrugged: "And really, Hero of Strength, if we're talking about family that I've taken away...do you not think that perhaps the Hero of Heroes should be first in line. I killed her sister over two decades ago now, after all."

Despite my rage, I restrained myself. I'd cleave that monster's head from his body...but not yet. Not when he was still on guard. For now, I let Garth speak: "Lucien, this isn't you. Open your eyes."

"You are looking at your new king, Hero of Will. I would suggest you hold your tongue."

"A pretender." I called out finally, rage making my voice tremble: "I will ensure your fall is hard indeed."

Lucien merely smirked: "Ah, she finally speaks. That makes all of you, now, except for the Hero of Skill. What have you to say, Pirate?" Lucien turned to Reaver: "You're usually so talkative."

Reaver shrugged: "Our deal still stands, your Majesty. I have delivered the Sparrow to you...along with her friends."

 

The betrayal was like a knife to the stomach, but I kept my face cold: my body relaxed. I wouldn't give Reaver _any_ satisfaction, the lying bastard. After all, I'd known from the start that he couldn't be trusted. It was just a shame I'd lost sight of the fact.

Not a mistake I'd make twice.

 

Lucien focused back on me, walking over to where I was frozen in place, while the others faded away with the Spire Guards in more bolts of white lightning: "I should have gone out into the dark and found your body that night, but I was hasty. I let the bloodline flourish. And you _have_ flourished. But this time is different - this time, the last of the Heroic blood will flow onto this hilltop, just as it did the floor of my tower." he pulled a gun from his ornate coat, aiming it carefully at me.

There was a vicious growl, a blur of my beautiful Fenrir's coat, before the bullet left the gun and I screamed: "Fen! No!"

My dog hit the ground, whimpering, while I dropped to my knees: sobbing. I couldn't lose Fenrir too!

 

_No, no please...Fen...don't leave me like everyone else has, don't leave me alone...please don't leave me..._

 

Lucien watched on dispassionately, finally pronouncing: "Pitiful creature. Misguided and weak."

"Don't you dare," I snarled: "My Fen had more loyalty, more goodness in a sing wag of his tail than you have done in your entire, worthless life!" I finished on a scream, breaking free of the hold keeping me in place and stalking up to Lucien. I leant down, pressing the barrel of the gun against my own head: "Do it. Do it, Lucien. Because I assure you, whether I am dead or alive, I will make you fucking regret this!"

"The last time I killed you, it tore my heart out."

"But I came back - I will again. And this time, I'll tear your heart out myself."

 

Lucien pulled the trigger.

       

 

     

* * *

 

      

                

**~ Reaver ~**

 

I sat inside my cell, opposite Hammer and Garth, waiting for our captor. Lucien would come. He would see Sparrow to her cell himself, or he would come to us to gloat over her death.

Once again, I had failed the one person I wanted to protect.

Before, I would have killed for Alice. She was my wife, she had loved me: despite my weaknesses. But that was _before_ \- before I changed, before I became a killer. Killing for Sparrow would mean nothing...the only thing that mattered was that I would have died for her. I had every intention of shooting Lucien was distracted: even if that put me at direct risk from his masked Spire Guards: even if it would have meant they could cut my throat. Sparrow would have safe: her sister's murder avenged. Perhaps she would have been angry at me...but she would be alive. Alive, and safe. Besides, she had been angry at me before, and last night...

Last night she had turned to me for comfort. She had forgiven me. And I could make that happen again.

I was Reaver: I could do anything.

Even charm a furious Sparrow.

 

_Finally, the legendary Hero of Bowerstone made her way into my house._

_She had been in Bloodstone for three days now...not counting when she arrived nine days ago disappeared for a week. Rumour had it that she had defeated the ghost of Captain Dread...not that I was that impressed. She was wasn't the first person to manage it. Albeit, though perhaps her actions weren't that impressive, she certainly was._

_Almost at tall as I was, the woman held herself like a queen...and dressed like a Bandit. Black thigh-high boots, black hot pants, and a black corset all contrasted against pale skin decorated in scars, smudges of dirt and blood, tattoos, and glowing blue lines that pulsed like a heartbeat. Her long black coat flared behind her, the blue trimming matching the black tricorn hat on her head. A true highwayman: if one ignored the augmented long sword and crossbow over her back. Not traditional highwayman weaponry. An interesting look though; it proved her as a fighter, a woman who knew how to handle herself..._

_A woman who I could send into the Shadow Court._

_Maybe she could come back, and maybe she wouldn't - although, on balance, I would prefer her to come back; she was quite easy to look at - but at least it would save me a trip. So I sent her off, with my little Objet D'Art and a promise that, when (if) she returned, I would help her little cause. And it wasn't a complete lie - I hadn't decided yet: I might. Defeating the ruler of Albion...it could be fun, but it also sounded like a lot of effort: so I probably wouldn't. But she didn't need to know that. The little Sparrow had a job to do! And I wouldn't want to get in the way of that._

_Of course, when she returned - and, oh, actually I had been waiting for this - I'd decided on what to do. Hand her over to Lucien; he was offering a lot of gold, impunity, and a way out of doing something that too much resembled hard work._

_I was surprised that she handled it so well: rolling her eyes and shrugging at me, as if she'd been expecting it all along. Perhaps she had been: I hadn't underestimated anyone in a long time, but maybe, just maybe, this 'Hero': the do-gooder, wasn't as stupid as I had believed. That was why I allowed her to follow me through my tunnels. I was even going to let her escape on my ship: if only to learn more about her. Sparrow was a conundrum that I wanted to solve, her friends not so much. That monk woman especially...she could go and get lost in the Temple of Shadows. I wouldn't give a toss. But Sparrow would, and so I helped to pick off the Spire Guards behind her (not that she noticed), while Sparrow and the Will User destroyed the giant floating rock. She looked so...enticing while doing so._

_Her long blonde hair was whipping around her face. Her face was light up intermittently with blue-white and red-gold as hurled different kinds of Will at her target. And her body flowed like water: ducking and weaving and almost dancing with those trying to attack her. If only I get her to do it naked...I couldn't wait to try and get her into bed with me..._

_But then I followed her out of the sea. I watched her take charge, lead the situation: even though she_ wasn't _the leader. She made plans, enacted them, organised these hapless fools into a successful until: all while separate from them, dragging me across Wraithmarsh. Sparrow fought Hollow Men like it was a game, fought Banshees valiantly. Even when it almost broke her, she forged on. Clearly women of her bloodline were made of sword steel and forged in fire. She drank the brandy I gave her, and forced herself to keep moving...until the Troll. Both of us_ enjoyed _fighting the Troll - because we fought well together. Just as we both undoubtedly fought well alone, we fought well together, too. It was like art: or at least it was to me. I always enjoyed strong women: far more than the pretty, useless ones I often drew in. In that moment, I knew I wanted Sparrow more than just as another one-night stand._

_Then there was the night that she trusted me with not just her past: but the weaknesses that accompanied her view of it. The very night I told her of Alice, and she knew that to push the subject was to hurt me, and so she didn't. Then there was no doubting that she was special: something different._

_There was no doubting that whatever was happening between Sparrow...it was special._

It wasn't love, no. I...I may not love Sparrow; I wasn't sure I was even capable of such a...useless emotion. But she was something different: something special. I wouldn't see her hurt, not for anything: not for gold, power, or even immortality.

 

"So, Pirate." Garth rumbled from the opposite side of the cell: "Do you have a plan?"

I rolled my eyes: "Of course...we're just waiting for someone to arrive."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I've tried to write Sparrow as a child in the first part of this chapter, so if you could imagine it in the voice of a five year old? That'd be great, thanks.

**_Death is not your destiny today, little Fledgling..._ **

 

"C'mon, little Sparrow, wake up!" my sister woke me up, dispelling the strange man's voice from my mind. It was forgotten as soon as I opened my eyes, so find myself in a strange bed: sunlight streaming through the window above my bed, and the sound of birdsong and the breeze rustling gently through the trees.

 

My sister was leaning over my bed, smiling, and explaining that we had the whole day to ourselves. I was so excited! We wouldn't have to do any chores - we could go and shoot bottles - ** _Beetles...Hollow Men...Shades...Balverines...no, what was a..._ ** \- shooting bottles! And rounding up the chickens - _**children in a haunted snowglobe...no, things weren't haunted, silly**_ - chickens! We were going to have such fun!

We raced out of the house to play in our farm. It was odd that mum and dad hadn't woken me to say goodbye - _**and that I couldn't remember what colour my mother's dress was, or the material of my father's coat**_ \- but then they were busy! They had things to do - adult things. Boring things, things that I didn't really want to think about: not when I could be chasing chickens! Me and Rose loved playing with the animals!

The sun rose higher and higher in the sky: until it was midday...and suddenly we heard a voice calling out from the entrance to the farm. We rushed down, thinking perhaps mum and dad were back: but instead it was a small, skinny boy with dark brown hair and golden eyes: looking around solemnly.

 

"I need to find the Hero..." he told us urgently: "She's go away from me, but I need to get her back! I need her back, please help me find her!"

"We can help you!" I announced boldly. Rose was hesitant, but I knew how scary it was to be separated from people. One time I had lost my mom in the Markets and it had been _the worst day of my life_...so we had to help the boy! "Do you know what she looks like?"

The boy slowly shook his head: "I...I should do...but I don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be bad!"

"Don't be sorry," I told the boy: reaching out to take one of the hands shielding his face: "My name is - " the sound faded out, replaced by a woman in me head shouting - **_Sparrow, my name is Sparrow, the Hero of Bowerstone, Sparrow!_** \- " - What's your name?"

"Joseph." **_Reaver._**

 

The boy's name couldn't be _Reaver_ \- Reaver was a _silly_ name. So I pulled Joseph up the path, thinking that maybe his Hero person might be hiding somewhere on the farm. There were so many hiding places here, she must be in _one_ of them! Rose relaxed more the further we moved away from the gate, even though Joseph got less relaxed at the same time. It was like he didn't want to move to far from the road...no matter we went, I made sure we could still see the gate. I wanted Joseph to be happy: and besides, I was helping him. Helping people was good. _**It's what I do.**_

Again, I shook the woman's voice off and continued to lead Joseph around the farm, looking for his Hero lady. Rose wouldn't talk much to him, which was strange, because usually Rose spoke _all the time_! I didn't mind too much, though, because it was nice to be able to be the one talking for a change. Joseph was shy, but he was _very_ clever, and he had a lot of good ideas about hiding places that I wouldn't even thought of!

Eventually, though, it started to get dark, and Rose said I had to go to bed. I didn't want to leave Joseph alone, but Rose was in charge...so I just pulled Joseph along side with me. We couldn't leave him _out in the dark_ , after all. I was scared of the dark, and that meant that he must be too. Again, Rose wasn't happy, but I couldn't understand why...and it was a little bit strange, actually. Normally Rose was just like me; she thought helping people was good, too...so why would she be so mean to poor Joseph when he needed our help? I wanted to talk to her about it, but I also didn't want to because Joseph already looked sad, and I didn't want him to hear why Rose didn't like him. I'd just have to ask her after we found his Hero. _**You've found her - he's found her - I'm her - I'm Sparrow - I'm the Hero of Bowerstone!**_

We all went to sleep, Joseph curled up under a spare blanket by the window, a small smile on his face...but then I woke up again. It was still dark, and for a moment I didn't know what it was that had woken me up...

Until I heard it again.

It was very faint, and I didn't quite know what it was, but I knew it was what had made me be awake. I got up and went to the window, trying not to wake Joseph, to see if I could see anything...I couldn't, but somehow I knew that the music was coming from just outside of the gate. I knew I wasn't supposed to go beyond our farm, but...this could be important! It could about Joseph's Hero!

 

"It's nothing - " again, the name was just a humming sound " - Go back to sleep."

"We should probably go back...whatever it is, I won't be good..." Joseph agreed with her, even though he looked like he wanted to go out there and have a look. He just wasn't brave enough.

 

So I'd have to be brave enough for both of us!

 

"No, we're going to go and have a look." I declared: "It could be important!"

" - no! We can't leave the farm!" Rose protested, but I was already putting on my shoes and heading for the stairs. I would find out more about this...whatever it was...

I made it to the gate with both Rose and Joseph telling me to leave it be: Rose getting angrier, while Joseph sounded less and less sure about what he wanted. With every step, the music got louder, and for a second I could've sworn I knew the tune...but before I could think about it, Rose was shouting at me again: "There's nothing fun out there! You can't leave this place - it's bad out there!"

__

_**Yes, it is. And that's why I have to go - to make it better.** _

 

"If it's bad, then she'll make it better." Joseph decided: "We should go with her. To watch her back..."

"No! Mum and dad will be angry...I won't go with you!"

Joseph gave me a sad smile: "I will."

 

Joseph and me headed towards the gate. Somehow, everything started to feel very strange. The air felt all crackly, and the sky went a strange colour. The music got louder, but I could also hear the flames burning on stakes in the ground. Tall stone ruins rose on either side of us, and...and bodies lay all over the ground. Some where impaled on swords, others had bits of them missing, and some were all burned up...but I wasn't scared.

 

_**There's nothing you can do to help these people. Keep moving.** _

 

I listened to the voice this time, held Joseph's hand a little tighter, and moved forwards. He was talking to me, but soon I couldn't hear him over the sound of the music. Then he suddenly he started to fade. I could see the fire through his face, as suddenly it changed: got older: and his eyes got sadder and sadder... _**Reaver.**_

The man said something, but I still couldn't hear him! He let my hand go, pushing me towards the sound of the music, all while getting more and more see-through. I tried to grab his hand again, but it wasn't there! I could see his hand but I couldn't touch it. I looked up at the man's face, only to see him mouth the word _'Go'_ to me, before he disappeared completely. He was gone, and I was alone. But I wasn't scared!

I ran through the bodies and the ruins and the flames, the music getting louder and louder and louder until it was all I could hear. It was in my head, in my chest, it was _everything_. There was a glowing light, all golden, highlighting the twirling music box...I picked it up...and everything went black.

   

 

  

* * *

         

 

                       

I awoke atop Hero Hill, the cold light of the midwinter sun hitting me full in the face, leaving me shivering...with rage.

Lucien had failed again. I was alive. And this time, I was not going to wait for my revenge. Knowing what I had to do, with Theresa gone: my Will drained: and my friends in danger, I pulled out the Dark Seal I'd obtained from Reaver...and dropped it into the pool of blood at my feet. _My_ blood.

The Shadow Judges appeared in a burst of darkness.

 

**'YOU CALLED US.'**

"I did, yes. I want a deal."

**'A DEAL? YOU KNOW OUR DEALS.'**

"Yes, I do. You require souls, but in return you give exactly the gifts I require."

**'THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT? AND WHAT WILL YOU OFFER IN RETURN?'**

"I want three things. I want passage to the Spire. I want my immortality - properly, not the dying and having fever dreams. And I want Reaver's freedom from you. I return...you can own the soul of every being that I kill. And you know that I kill _a lot_."

**'THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. THE SOULS OF YOUR KILLS SHALL BELONG TO US, IN EXCHANGE FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIEND'S IMORTALITY...AND PASSAGE TO THE SPIRE. WE SHALL SEE YOU SOON, HERO.'**

 

Not before Lucien did.


	6. Chapter 6

The Spire was far easier to get into when I was immortal. In fact, it seemed that the Shadow Judges seemed to want to protect their new investment, given the army of their Shades following in my wake: or sometimes rushing ahead, taking on the Spire Guards, under the guidance of the recently raised dead I had surrounded myself with since leaving Hero Hill.

Soon enough, I was sprinting up the steps to the core of The Spire. The Shades fell behind me: the blue glow of the dead I'd raised faded, and I murmured my thanks, before uncorking a healing potion. I needed to be prepared for this: I didn't know how all of this was going to happen - not how Lucien would react, not if I would have any allies in that room, not even if I would have to fight any more Spire Guards. There was only one certainty...I was going to stop this. There would be no perfect world of Lucien's, in fact: before I was finished, there wouldn't be a Lucien.

It ended today.

White light blinded me as I walked through the doorway: coming across a similar scene to the top of Hero Hill: Reaver, Garth, and Hammer floating and writhing in pain, golden, red, and blue light shooting away from them and towards the centre...where I had once stood: and a space now occupied by Lucien himself.

 

And, of course, he was handling it well enough to look up at my entrance: fear flashing across his face: "No. You can't have cheated Death twice...it's not possible..."

"Someone once told me that some that some grief is so great, even Death will keep his distance." I said calmly, walking deeper into the room: "Apparently, the same can be said for rage."

"It's no matter. Your powers may be great, but they are trivial compared to the infinite powers of The Spire: which will soon be mine." Lucien laughed, the sound echoing around the stone room.

Except soon, though, it wasn't just an echo - it was Reaver, joining in, only his laughter was far more mocking than Lucien's: "Oh, you have no idea what you're up against, _Lord Lucien_." the name was spat out: twisted and mocking in Reaver's mouth: "Before, the Hero of Bowerstone was merely legendary. Now she has the powers of Death and darkness on her side...you don't stand a chance."

"She cannot stand against The Spire. Now," Lucien turned back to me: " ** _Sleep_**."

 

I took another step forwards.

 

"No...I said **_Sleep_**." I ignored the wave of influence that battered at me, pulling out the music box that had been in my hands when I woke up: "What? What is that? What are you doing?"

 

I started turning the key, hearing the music start up: slow and first, but then then speeding up as the music box started to glow and heat up, drawing the white light from Lucien's aura, his powering being drained away.

The blue of Hammer's Strength faded to nothing, the light the music box was drawing in turning red: stealing Garth's Will power away from Lucien.

 

He started to panic: shifting his feet and clenching his fists: "Do you think a mere trinket can stop me? Do you think anything can?"

"Yes. I think she can." Reaver snorted.

"Do you never stop talking?" Lucien screamed at him, whirling back to me: "Stop: and think about what you're doing..."

Reaver turned to me: "Don't listen to him; Sparrow, you know you won't be able to live in his world. No-one will. Being alive, surviving, it's not the same as living - and you can't let that happen."

"Listen to Reaver, Hero!" Garth joined in: "Saving the world is what we do: and you for the longest of all of us..."

"All of you be silent!" Lucien screamed, Garth's power leaving him and Reaver's starting to fade too: "I will put an end to chaos! To death, famine, and pain! Stop!" Lucien ordered me: "Stop now, you foolish insect! Stop! _**I order you to stop!**_ " 

 

Lucien's world, I knew, would be perfect. Like a marble statue: it would be...calm. Serene and beautiful...and I wanted that; a safe world where there was no death, no suffering, of course I wanted that. It would be a good world...but it would be cold. Boring and stagnant.

It couldn't be allowed to go ahead.

Albion was messy and violent and dangerous: but it was exciting. It was fun and wild. The people were happy: and when they weren't, when they were scared or in danger, there were individuals to stop that. The Guards, people like Giles, even me. Problems couldn't be solved though forcing your Will upon people. It was a battle to beat the problems of Albion: but it was one that had to be fought - because when it was won, the world still had it's wildness. It was still home - not a pale reflection in a lake.

 

I took another step forwards, the gold light pouring away from Lucien growing brighter, stronger, all while he tried to physically pull it back towards him: "I'm sorry. I know you wanted what you thought was best." I told him softly: "But I can't allow you to win."

The light surround us all turned blinding, the stone chamber awashed with bright white light, and then Lucien was on his knees. In a flash, he was back on his feet, though, and charging at me: sword raised and screaming: "You did not stop me, Hero! You can't stop me! I am invincible - you've only put off the inevitable!"

 

Metal clanged, and I realised quickly that I'd underestimated Lucien. He looked frail, but I could feel the strength in his attacks: and with just to strikes, he had pushed me to the edge of the stone walkway: still ranting about how he'd kill me and continue the ritual.

I recovered myself: pushing Lucien back and moving away from the ledge, only for him to launch another attack. This time we were more evenly matched: our swords meeting in a shower of sparks, the metal blades grinding against each other as we battled for the upper hand. I heard the others shouting encouragement, was aware of Garth and Hammer struggling to their feet. All of them were trapped by the magic of The Spire...but even if I couldn't defeat Lucien, it wouldn't be forever. Sooner or later, one of them _would_ be able to come to my aid. Not that I'd need it...I hoped...

Swinging my sword up, I blocked another blow from Lucien, only to feel a cold sensation slip between my ribs. I bellowed in pain, the sensation making me stumble back: away from my friends, into the shadows at the edge of the room. Whatever Lucien had stabbed me with must've been coated with something, because it burned like ice.

 

But it was nothing compared to what came out of Lucien's mouth: "You don't deserve the title of _Hero_! You're not strong enough! Not to save your sister, not to save your friends, and not to save Albion! You're just _weak_ \- and I will make sure, when this is over, no-one will even remember what a Sparrow is - let alone _you_!"

 

All of a sudden, there was a gunshot.

Lucien crumbled to the floor, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as he clutched at his stomach: at the white shirt rapidly turning red with blood. Over his body, I saw Reaver holding his Dragon Stomper, hand shaking, but face triumphant. It hadn't been a killing shot...but it was enough.

Pulling myself up, I pulled my short sword out of it's sheath, I stumbled over to Lucien's prone form. He looked up at me with sad and angry eyes, lips trying to form words...but I didn't wait to hear what he had to say. I just brought the blade down, separating his head from his body. The blow was all I had left in me - that, and the strength to shove both his head and body into the abyss below us. There was no sound of them hitting the bottom. No-one spoke. There was only silence.

 

Until Reaver: "Thank Skorm. I thought he'd never shut up."

 

I burst out laughing, simply because it was such a _Reaver_ thing to say. In a blink of an eye, Reaver was next to me on the stone walkway: pulling me into his side: wrapping strong arms around my shoulders and clutching me to his chest:

 

"I'm sorry, my dear. Sorry I shied away...and sorry that I ever allowed you to think that I would turn you over to Lucien. I would never."

I reached up to cup his cheek, looking into those golden-brown eyes of his: "I know you wouldn't. You came to find me, after all. You rescued me."

"He did. He almost died for you, Sparrow." Garth spoke, walking over to where Reaver and I where huddled on the floor.

"And I'd do it again." Reaver murmured against my hair: "In a heartbeat."

Feeling Reaver's chest trembling against my side, I turned to respond to his heartfelt words...only to be interrupted by an all too familiar aura of multi-hued light, and a dreaded voice: "This is not the end, little Sparrow."

 

Theresa had arrived.

 

"There is much to be done. Damage to be repaired. A country to - "

"Can you not just let her rest? Just for few moments?" Reaver snapped. Garth drew closer to us, while Hammer stepped towards Theresa: "She almost died for your cause!"

"This was not the first time. But from what I understand, it will be the last..."

I could feel my protector shaking with rage: "And that makes it acceptable to you? You've hung Sparrow out to dry before, and so are entitled to do so again?"

Theresa merely laughed: "I saved her life. It belongs to me."

"Saved my life?" I choked out a shocked laugh: "You convinced my sister to buy the music box. You sent us into Castle Fairfax - into Lucien's Tower. And you pushed him into the insanity that caused all of this! I've read his diaries Theresa...and now I've had my revenge, I'm done. Done with you, and with your cause. Find someone else to do your bidding."

"You are no longer will to serve me?" Theresa tilted her head: "Then you are of no use to me."

 

A fireball spell glowed in her hands - and I only able to watch her do so, my own Will Powers out of reach. I was too tired to fight...I could only watch my oncoming demise.

Only someone else had recovered himself enough to summon his own Will spell. And it wasn't Garth.

Reaver's hands forced a force-push spell out just as Theresa released the flames. They, and the force-push itself, sent her stumbling backwards: towards the slippery stone precipice.

 

"You will not hurt her." Reaver warned, his voice low, and far more violent than I had ever heard it: "You're not the only ancient here, Crone. And you're not the only one who has been touched by Magic. You will leave Sparrow, and the rest of us, alone, or I swear on my village's remains... _I will end you_."

 

Clearly, Theresa believed him.

In the next blink, she had disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Reaver used Force Push! Who would've known?

The next sequence of events were a blur.

Once Theresa was gone, I remembered Reaver hauling me up against his chest, and marching out of the chamber. Garth followed close on his heels, even though I somehow lost track of Hammer.

After that, everything went dark. When I next awoke, I was laying on a pallet of blankets on a boat a few feet away from a ship's helm. Garth was lighting lanterns around the ship, while Reaver directed it through the night. Still not quite able to keep myself awake, feeling perfectly safe with the two men watching over me, I fell asleep looking up at the stars in the midnight sky.

I had a vague recollection of being carried up a hill. The air smelt of fish and booze and blood, meaning that I had to be in Bloodstone. And the faint smell of cologne meant it had to be Reaver carrying me. Garth was gone, but of course Reaver was never short of people to help him.

Knowing I wasn't needed, I slipped back into darkness. Finally, when I woke up for the last time, I found myself laying in the middle of an immense four poster bed. Silk sheets cradled my aching body: while thick, featherdown duvet kept the cold from creeping in. Everything about my surroundings spoke of opulence and luxury...meaning that it could only be Reaver's room. Not that that bothered me. Reaver had risked life and sanity for me. And I'd been vulnerable for a currently unknown amount of time. If Reaver wanted to hurt me, then he would've done it by now.

 

Besides, the man himself had just walked in. I was sure that he would explain his motivations: "Sparrow, my darling. You're finally awake."

"How long have I been out?" I asked, pulling myself upright.

Reaver offered me a flask of sublime tasting water, and a slice of apple pie: "You've been in and out of consciousness for about a week. Now, eat. Apparently I have much to explain to you."

"The Will."

"Yes, the Will. I supposed simply telling you it was the only one Garth could teach me won't suffice?"

"Not at all."

The man actually smiled. The expression made my stomach twist in sympathy; he looked so lost... "You remember we spoke about how the easiest Will Ability to learn is the one closest tied to your personality? Garth is intelligent: sharp like a knife, and so he can conjure blades. Despite your natural status as an over-achiever," he sent me a small smirk: "you best suit lightning. Because you are a force of nature: your personality is beautiful and untameable and dangerous all in one. As it turns out...my soul is pointless. No more use than one of your friend's hammer. Hence, force push."

"That's what Garth told you?" I asked, shocked. That was not what I had researched about Will Users who favoured Force Push: "Because if he did, then he was - he _is - very_ wrong. If your soul was dead, Reaver, then you wouldn't be able to _use_ Will. It responds to who you are, inside, beneath what people can see. And that you can use Force Push? I know exactly what that means."

Reaver looked hopeful - although he tried to hide it, it showed in his eyes: "What?"

"That beneath your show of apathy and aloofness, you are _determined_. That you're strong. You can force reality itself to your will, pushing or pulling it as you see fit."

 

It took him a moment, but finally I saw Reaver's shoulders slump - relaxing. He leant over and buried his face against my hair: murmuring quiet thanks against my hair as he did so. I reached up to run my fingers through his own hair, enjoying the peaceful silence between the pair of us. There was much we would have to discuss...but, for now...for now I was perfectly happy to just sit with the man who'd saved my life more than once. Banshees, Bandits, my own mind: he'd had my back every time. I'd missed having someone so close to me.

Of course I was going to soak it up while it lasted.

Who wouldn't?

      

 

   

* * *

                   

         

 

After a week staying in Reaver's mansion, and I was somewhat confused. While I'd been here, Reaver had been a completely different person. He'd been bringing me the best healing potions, food, and drinks - all while insisting that I remained in bed. It was nice...if a little confusing. And it wasn't until Garth came to visit that I understood why.

 

"He loves you. In his own, strange way."

"Reaver's not strange," I defended automatically: with really listening to what Garth had said...until it suddenly registered: "Wait, what? In love?"

"Yes, any with you." Garth responded, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I mere glared at him: "You're deranged."

"No, you're blinded. And, most importantly, you didn't see him after you passed out in The Spire. It was like a completely different man, you know - not once did he make a sarcastic joke, quip, or even take a drink. Most damning of all: he barely took his eyes off of you."

 

I paused. I couldn't deny Garth's claims - I hadn't been awake to know better, but it did seem...unlikely. Did Reaver love me? Quite possibly - he had put a significant amount of effort into keeping me alive. Both before The Spire, and afterwards. I'd dismiss it as gratitude, but this was Reaver. Reaver didn't act on normal human emotions.

Which was also what made it hard to believe that he loved me.

Loving others was a thing that _'normal'_ people did - not _Reaver_. Yes, we'd flirted - but he'd also flirted with Hammer. And Garth. And Theresa. The only difference was that I had returned the flirtations: otherwise I wasn't anything special. Even the night when I'd fallen asleep with him - albeit not normal - wasn't a sign of undying love. It was just because I'd needed some human contact, and Reaver either did too, or just couldn't be arsed to push me off of him. And I explained as much to Garth.

 

He only shook his head: "No, Sparrow. Reaver doesn't sleep with anyone - he beds them, and either leaves or kicks them out when they're done. You, he spent a night wrapped around, because you are different. He flirts, but doesn't push to actually get you to...copulate," Garth blushed faintly: "because he doesn't want to push too far. He saved you, and by extension all of us, from being slaughtered in our sleep. He learned Will to come after you in Death, Sparrow. That has to mean something to you."

 

Of course it did.

I knew all the worst stories about Reaver. Hammer had taken great delight in telling them to me as we'd travelled to Hero Hill - always within earshot of the Hero of Skill. And I hadn't missed his flinches, or the lack of witty retorts. Because he didn't think badly of him? Then why try to betray me to Lucien?

 

"As for the second time he tried to sell you out to Lucien - "

"It was a trick. I know." I cut Garth off, wondering if he had some kind of mind-reading powers, since that was twice now that he'd managed to allay the very worries I'd had on my mind: "Reaver usually isn't stupid enough to try the same trick twice, not if it doesn't work."

"He wanted you to survive. I don't know why, Sparrow, but you are special to Reaver. And I think he is to you, too."

 

 _That_ was undeniable.

But Garth had no business knowing about my feeling towards Reaver...not until I had sorted them out myself.

The way I felt about Reaver was unlike anything I had felt since a boy in the Gypsy Camp. Of course, he'd gotten married to someone else, and the feeling had soon blown over, so...so what if the same happened with Reaver? The feeling was a lot stronger, that was true, but...but then, how could anyone get bored of Reaver? Nearly everything he did was a surprise in some shape of from - not always got, but it was impossible for him not to keep one on their toes. And I knew I needed that; I'd tried domesticity, when I'd first set out with Alex. I'd liked him, but soon realised that I didn't love him. And he constantly moaned at me for being away. Reaver wouldn't do that; he'd more likely just follow me if he wanted my presence, or he'd be off on his own adventures. Nor would Reaver be dependant on me like Alex had been. More and more Reaver was sounding like a perfect match. Besides, hadn't I known this all along? I'd bargained for his freedom from the Shadow Judges, after all...

Maybe I shouldn't be so worried about how I would feel about Reaver in a few months, or years. I liked - _maybe even loved, although I couldn't say for sure_  - him now. And that was something that I was going to have to work out: with Reaver, not Garth. Until then...I just changed the subject. Garth didn't say another word on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was intending this story to be a one-shot. Then three parts. The four. Now it's eight parts long, but I feel happiest with it this way, so...there you go. All that's left is an epilogue of sorts, and this story is done.
> 
> Yes, I know: I know: _do_ try to contain your disappointment...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end, darlings.

**~ Reaver ~**

 

Three weeks after we'd returned from The Spire, and I had run out of excuses to keep Sparrow in my house. The poison from Lucien's blade had left her system, she looked healthy, and she was steady on her feet. She looked ready to take on a pack of Balverines, should she wish...though I doubted she would be so foolish.

But despite the fact Sparrow had been fully capable of leaving for three days now, she hadn't shown any desire to.

She was far more likely to wonder into to Bloodstone, fight a Pirate for whatever reason she fought Pirates (it wasn't something I understood, Pirates were a useful resource), and then wondered back up to my mansion to sleep off her wounds and alcohol consumption. When I asked why she was still staying with me - _wincing as I heard how accusative I sounded_ \- she merely smiled rakishly and told me that she was enjoying her holiday. She never asked if I had a problem with her staying here...and I wondered if Garth's promise that she knew how I felt (how did he know to tell me that she knew - I wasn't sure _I_ knew) was actually something I should've paid attention to.

Instead, I watched Sparrow traipse around my house in bare feet, curling up in my office as I chartered a new voyage for treasure, and generally putting the fear of Sparrow into anyone who came in to complain. She even shot a man who tried to attack me when my back was turned.

 

Eventually, I decided that it was something I had to stop ignoring: "Sparrow, why are you still here?"

She looked up from the book she was reading, mouth twisting in thought: "Honestly..." she hesitated for a second: "...because I want to be. I like it here - I like being with you. If you don't want me here, I can go, but I'd rather not. Haven't had a home in a while, and this kind of feels like it."

"I don't want you to leave." was the instant response: "I...just...am surprised. Most people have left by now."

"Because I have _so_ much in common with most people." That, I couldn't deny. But despite her amused words, it seemed Sparrow wasn't done...more like she was steeling herself to say something important: "Reaver...I like you. Maybe more, I really don't know myself. You're funny, you're exciting, and...well...you're you."

 

I froze.

Was Sparrow...saying that...

 

"I don't think I love you, Reaver. Not yet...if I'm even capable of love anymore...but it's something close." Sparrow fidgeted, looking nervous.

Be it anyone else, I would've used their nerves against them...but this wasn't anyone else. This was Sparrow: "I feel the same way."

Sparrow looked up with wide eyes: "What?"

"It's been so long, Sparrow...I don't know if I can love anyone anymore either. But if I could, it would be you...I am _determined_ that it _will_ be you."

 

Blue eyes lit up like the summer sky, and red lips parted into a wide smile.

Sparrow leapt out of the chair, and I lunged forwards: the two of us meeting in the middle: a storm of hands, tangling limps, and wild kissing. Fire burned in my chest: my heart pounding in a way it hadn't in decades, as I tried to pull Sparrow even closer: feeling her grin against my lips.

_Oh, yes. I would force my heart to work again...and it would forever bear Sparrow's name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go - "I Thought He'd Never Shut Up", published with spelling and grammatical errors and all. Despite all that, I hope people have enjoyed this: and, please, do let me know what you thought


End file.
